I'd just like to say that this fic is purely of ideas thought up of in my head. Please do not yell at me for "not being correct". Thank you.
People always say, "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never meant to be." They never said anything about that something not even having enough time to decide if it wanted to come back or not. You can't exactly make decisions when you're dead. If your something dies, are you allowed to assume it would come back? Or are you just stuck with no answer forever?
Assumptions are the worst, anyway.
Four days ago, I had my something.
Three days ago, I let my something go. Moments after, I lost it for good.
Two days ago, I broke down.
One day ago, I put the finishing touches onto a funeral.
Today, I sit in the front row of a crowd consisting of over 1,000 people at that very funeral.
My name is Philip Michael Lester. Three days in the past, my best friend and lover gave me a final kiss, promising he'd give me a call after he'd thought about our situation for a while. I don't think he had any intention of tripping off of the sidewalk. I don't think the driver wanted to hit him. But he did trip, and the driver's car did hit him.
It's all my fault.
"Phil," My friend, PJ, nudges my arm. "It's time for the eulogy." I nod. I'm numb as I walk up to the podium. There are so many people. So many different cries. It's tragically beautiful. I step up to the microphone, adjusting the height of it.
"Hello everyone," My voice is in shambles. "First, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming, whether you're a friend, fan, or a family member. Dan never really was one for crowds, or for being social, but I think he'd really appreciate the fact that so many of you came." I attempt to swallow the lump that's been in my throat since three days ago. "Dan never liked receiving as much as he enjoyed giving. He'd rather present radio over receiving an award for presenting. But I'm sure that he would have loved to see the amount of people giving him their time." Tears have started to leak out of my eyes, but there is no way I'm going to cut this short. I quickly gather myself, then proceed to tell the well-known tale of how Dan and I met. I even included the romance part in it, something I've never once done before.
"Daniel James Howell was a great man, a successful man. He was, is, and forever will be the best friend I've ever had." I finish slowly. No one makes a sound. No fan shouts out about how 'Phan is real!". No close friend lets out a gross sob. The hall is silent. A respectful silence. I take my seat back in the crowd, trying to become unseen. Everyone still looks. I begin to sob.
oOoOoOo
I don't know how the hell I lasted through the lunch-in. I had sat with Mr. and Mrs. Howell, mainly for support. But that only lasted so long before I became uncomfortable. I now help with the cleanup. Almost everyone is gone.
"Need a lift back to you and Da-" My friend, Chris, begins to ask, turning red halfway through speaking. I force a weary smile.
"Thanks but no thanks. I'll walk."
He nods. "Alright. Stay safe, mate, okay?"
"Okay."
If only he knew.
A tall man hobbles into a tight London alleyway, a pretty young lady following close behind.
"Doctor, what do you mean, 'regenerate'?" The brown haired woman asks, her brows knit together. The man called 'Doctor' cringes and holds his side.
"Oh, why don't I ever explain this before it happens?" He cries out. "Clara, just remember, the man you see before you is me. I'm going to look, and act, quite different, but it will be me." The Doctor takes his hand off of the spot on his waist where the pain throbs the worst, and places it on Clara's cheek, pulling her in for a kiss. Clara kisses him back, but suddenly pulls away.
"You're burning up!"
"Yeah," A golden glow starts to dance on the Doctor's neck and fingertips.
"Doctor?" She reaches out to touch him.
"No, Clara, you need to keep away!" The glow begins to get brighter, heat radiating throughout the ally.
"I know, I know. I just thought you know that there's a man in the ally with us." The Doctor takes a few deep breaths before the golden glow completely swallows him.
I am a shell; empty and hollow.
No, I am less than a shell.
I am nothing.
I never thought of how I'd act after the funeral. Maybe I should have. It's apparent that I'm a wreck. I walk down the street, still in my suit. My tie is crooked and my pants are wrinkled. My gaze flows over to a nearby shop window. My eyes are puffy from crying and my hair stands up in multiple angles. I look like a madman. Dan would've said I looked fine, and then kissed my forehead. But he can't. Because he's dead.
Dead.
Dan Howell is dead.
The realizations hits me like a bullet. I'm never going to see him again. I'll never feel his warm touch or hear his lovely voice in person ever again. I'm only left with memories, approximately 90 YouTube videos, and our scrapbook. I have nothing more.
Before I'm aware of it, I begin to yell. I'm screaming and shouting and sobbing all at once. My fists are clenched and my nails dig into my palms, puncturing my skin, letting my own blood escape. I dodge the people who stare by diving into an ally. I collapse against the stone wall.
"WHY HIM?" I scream, my voice cracking. I slide to the ground, my voice quieter. "Why him?" I screw my eyes shut, my head falling into my hands. I stay like this for quite some time, not opening my eyes in the fear that I might drown in my tears.
An eternity later, I hear a voice.
"Doctor?"
Oh god, am I in the hospital? Or am I just imagining these voices? Maybe I have gone mad.
"No, Clara, you need to keep away!"
Who the hell is Clara?
"I know, I know. I just thought you know that there's a man in the ally with us."
My eyes pop open and my head snaps in the direction of the voices just in time to be blinded by a golden light.
Wow. Okay. So. Yes. New fic! Its a Doctor Who x Phan fanfiction, if you couldn't tell. I'm going to work hard to update this one, I promise! Caution, this may get a bit confusing!